


Sunday Morning

by brianmay_be



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Breakfast, Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Hangover, Married Couple, Married Life, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, basically frankie takes care of you and dances in the kitchen while he makes breakfast, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28730409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brianmay_be/pseuds/brianmay_be
Summary: Frankie was dancing and singing to himself as he cooked, using his spatula as a microphone to belt out “come back baby, rock and roll never forgets!”. He was truly a horrible dancer, but he sure did look good in those jeans, swaying his hips to the beat.or,You partied a little too hard with the boys last night; lucky for you, you married a man who’s really good at taking care of you while you’re hungover.
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales & Reader, Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Reader, Francisco "Catfish" Morales/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Sunday Morning

“Rise and shine, pretty girl.”

You rolled away from the sound of Frankie’s voice and buried your face in a pillow, unconvinced by even his gravelly drawl that waking would be preferable to sleeping. Your stomach was rocky, your mouth was almost concerningly dry, and there wasn’t a place on your body that didn’t ache like you’d been run over by a truck. You gave an unsociable grunt when he put a warm hand on your arm.

“My poor baby,” he said sincerely, running his hand up and down your arm to soothe you. “That tequila doesn’t agree with you as much the morning after, huh?”

You huffed. “No kidding.”

You’d had the boys over last night for dinner, which had turned into rummaging through the liquor cabinet, which had turned into you and Santi trying to drink each other under the table. You weren’t sure who’d won, but if your headache was any indication, you’d given it the good old college try.

“How are you awake right now?” you asked. If you remembered correctly, Frankie and Ben had polished off the bottle of Jack Daniels while Will had a few beers and watched you all descend into idiocy.

Frankie hummed in agreement. “My body’s conditioned for superior performance.”

You snorted; he gave a pleased chuckle and put his arm around you, pulling you back against his chest.

“Come on and have breakfast, at least,” he said. 

You groaned. “No way. I’m gonna yack.”

He pulled back a little at that, but knowing him, he wasn’t trying to get away from you - he was just getting prepared to haul you to the bathroom. 

“Are you?” he asked. “Or are you just being grumpy?”

“I... haven’t decided.”

He huffed a laugh. “Fine. But you’ll feel better if you eat something, or at least have some water.”

You rolled over to face him and tangled your legs together in the blankets, nosing against his scruffy jaw. He kissed you, chastely, in the exact way of a man trying not to get roped into morning sex with his super-hungover wife.

“Come on,” you said, though you couldn’t decide whether you wanted him to get more passionate or not, given that every movement made you ache like you were eighty years old.

“You just said a second ago you were gonna lose your lunch,” he pointed out.

You buried your face against his chest. “Yeah.”

He rubbed your back, his big hand going slowly over the places he knew you held the most tension. “I’ll make you a deal. You come have something to eat, and I’ll take a shower with you, ok?”

You considered that. “Will you wash my hair for me?”

“Sure,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You stayed snuggled up against him for a few more minutes, and he went through his little routine he usually did at night, brushing his fingers through your hair and scratching gently up and down your back while he hummed old 70’s love songs. 

“I’m gonna go get started on breakfast,” he said finally, pressing a kiss to your head and gently disentangling himself from you. “There’s tylenol and water on the nightstand. And if you’re not out when breakfast is done, I’ll toss you over my shoulder and haul you out there myself.”

“Romantic,” you said wryly.

He grinned down at you. “Yeah. Lucky you.”

You tipped your face up for one more kiss, and he obliged you. He gave your thigh a firm pat before he left.

“I want bacon!” you called.

You could just imagine him rolling his eyes. “ _S_ _í_ _, claro, claro_.”

You took your time getting out of bed; it was chilly in your small house that rainy morning, and you rummaged around in Frankie’s shirt drawer for that soft, well-worn overshirt you borrowed from time to time. You took the medicine he’d left out for you and made your way to the kitchen - you noticed with a wash of gratitude that he’d tidied up after the mess you all made last night - following the sound of Bob Seger and the smell of breakfast.

Frankie was dancing and singing to himself as he cooked, using his spatula as a microphone to belt out “ _come back baby, rock 'n roll never forgets!_ ”. He was truly a horrible dancer, but he was so cute, and he sure did look good in those jeans as he swayed his hips to the beat. You smiled to yourself and enjoyed watching him for a minute before you came up behind him and put your arms around his waist, dancing with him.

“Hey there, mama,” he said, as sensually as someone could with a strip of bacon in their mouth. He turned to face you and fed you the other half of his bacon, still singing about rock 'n roll.

“You took your medicine?” he asked.

You nodded. “And now I want coffee. Please.”

He grinned. “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” You let him go so he could dance his way over to the coffee pot; you laughed, and he smiled at you like you’d hung the moon.

When you had your coffee in hand, you tried and failed to boost yourself up on the counter opposite the stove. Well, you didn’t really try so much as _envision_ trying, and you knew you were way too sore for that.

“What’s wrong?” Frankie asked, seeing the disgruntled look on your face.

“I can’t get up on the counter.”

He looked amused. “Do you want some help?” Without waiting for an answer, he picked you up at the waist and sat you on the counter like it was nothing.

“You’re so sexy,” you said dreamily, leaning close for a kiss. He put his hands on the counter on either side of you and stood between your knees, spatula still in one hand, and kissed you like you’d wanted him to earlier.

“Where was all this passion and zest for your wife when we were in bed?” you teased.

He smiled against your mouth. “I was trying to think of some incentive for you to get up and have one of my amazing, world-famous omelets,” he said. “That, and you hadn’t brushed your teeth yet.”

You gave him a playful shove. “Frankie!”

He laughed. “I’m sorry, baby, but I would have gotten drunk on the taste of tequila alone if I kissed you much longer.” He mollified you with several more kisses, and before long, he’d earned your forgiveness.

“How’s your omelet coming?” you asked, a little dazedly.

“Oh, shit!” He swung around with comic speed to rescue the omelet on the stove.

“Crisis averted,” he said, sliding it onto a plate. “But I’ll give you the next one, because this one did get a little toasty.”

When both omelets were made, you stayed up on the counter and he stood beside you while you had breakfast together. He had been right, earlier; you were starting to feel better now that you’d eaten and the medicine was starting to kick in.

“You sure do love me, huh?” you asked.

His smile was a little bemused. “Yeah, of course I do.”

You reached out to brush his curls back; he hadn’t put on his ball cap yet, and his hair was still fluffy and a little bit mussed, just like you liked it.

“Thank you for taking good care of me,” you said.

He turned his head and kissed your wrist. “I love you, Mrs. Morales.”

You smiled, feeling the same warmth you did every time he called you that. “I love you too.”

Frankie filled the dishwasher while you got the shower ready, and you went ahead and got in while you waited for him. He laughed when you peeked your head out as he was undressing, covering himself in an endearing bit of modesty.

“Don’t ogle me like that,” he laughed, his cheeks pinking a little.

You grinned. “Fine.” You let him undress in peace. “But I’m ogling you as soon as you get in.”

You didn’t have to wait long, and all of his shyness was gone as he stepped under the warm spray and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Like he always did, he’d kept on the macrame bracelet Santi had given him years ago, and you found it alluring that the little band of string bound tight around his wrist was the only scrap of fabric on him.

“Come here,” he said, soaping his hands up with your shampoo. “Let’s get all those tangles out of your pretty hair.”

You stood in front of him while he washed your hair, closing your eyes and enjoying the feel of his fingers as he worked through the tangles from the night before. He was gentle and dutiful, and you had the thought, as you often did, that you were lucky beyond measure to have someone you could be so vulnerable with who treated you with such care.

He put his hands on either side of your head and kissed you slowly. “You’re so beautiful.”

You opened your eyes to see him watching you with incredible tenderness, and you would have blushed if it hadn’t been so warm in the shower.

“You are too,” you said, meaning it. You reached your hand up to trace his features softened with love and peace, so different than they had been when you met. Back then he had still been rough from his last tour, only a few months home after a year serving in some place you still didn’t know the name of. He was as kind then as he was now, but he was hurt and weary and used to the weight of the world on his shoulders. That haunted look had come back for a while after Colombia, but you knew him, and you knew what it looked like when he started to heal.

“I like it when you sing Bob Seger,” you said, your voice a little tight. “And I like it when you dance around our kitchen.”

He smiled with all the warmth and affection in the world. “Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he said, knowing what you meant. “You’ve got a whole lifetime to watch me make a fool of myself trying to dance and carry a tune.”

You leaned into his touch and let him kiss you, following his gentle pull to draw you close to him. 

“I love you, Frankie,” you said. Tucked close to him, held safely in his arms, you felt more at home than you had anywhere else before you met him.

He gave a contented sigh, like every hurt and every care had been lifted from him. “ _Mi cari_ _ñ_ _o, mi amor_ ,” he said gently, like he always did. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, come see me on my tumblr, @brianmay-be ♡


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